


Being the Glitterific Adventures of Tom Cat and Kitty Bill

by fyredancer



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 13:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Bill, gone kittified. Hapless Georg is caught in the crossroads. And Gustav yet again proves he's the smart one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being the Glitterific Adventures of Tom Cat and Kitty Bill

**Author's Note:**

> First kuwamiko did the art in the banner...and I took it from there. >:D Thanks go to th_australia for the beta, kuwamiko for the art that inspired me, kishmet for the squee, and pseudoblu for the *_* and the fantastic color and shading and bannering!

"Ooh, candy!"

Georg glanced up from the dirty magazine he was reading to see Bill rummage through the latest pile of mail, dumped at their studio by the newest PA on their team. "That's not sorted," he warned his bandmate. 

Bill scrunched his nose at Georg and grumbled under his breath.

"I wouldn't eat that if I were you," Georg warned, as a furtive crinkle reached his ears. Their singer hated being thwarted for any reason, even if said reason was, in Bill's mind, a good one.

Tom slammed through the side door, kicking it shut behind him and bringing with him the heavy stink of cigarette smoke. "Ooh, candy!" he said, sounding every bit as intrigued as Bill, sidling up to his twin and reaching for the newly-opened plastic bag. It was frosted white, covered with transparent heart windows and firework-bursts of glitter. Totally innocuous.

"That pile hasn't been looked over," Georg warned them again, hoping Tom's protective instincts would kick in and prevent him from letting his twin ingest poison, or worse. "Bill? Bill! I wouldn't put that in your mouth--"

"They look like Skittles! I'm going to taste the rainbow," Bill said joyfully, and popped a big handful into his mouth.

Tom swiped the bag from his twin, who made squealy protesting utterances even as he munched on his candy. "Good?" Tom wanted to know.

Bill nodded his head to express emphatic enjoyment, producing inadvertent yummy noises. His cheeks bulged as he chewed, and his eyes hazed half-shut as he made another happy sound.

Georg had to look away, rolling his eyes. When the room was camera-free, the twins felt free to express themselves in a manner that was as noisy and unattractive as possible, and gustatory appreciation was no exception. Gustav was the smart one; he tended to take himself to another room entirely.

Tom tipped the bag up, pouring candy direct from the bag into his mouth.

"If you guys get sick..." Georg began to warn. He shook his head, raising his magazine to screen the twins from view. What was he talking about? The twins would gorge themselves sick on regular candy, let alone something that could have been tampered with by crazy fans. Once upon a time, Bill had eaten an entire candy thong. By himself. Then flossed his back teeth with the leftover string just to get the remnants of candy powder off it. "Try to make it to the bathroom first, all right?"

"Oof eeg oogee," Bill moaned around his mouthful, making Georg scrunch deeper into his chair because although they had lived and traveled in one another's pockets for over ten years, he _still_ didn't particularly want to know what Bill's orgasm noises sounded like. Unless it was late at night and there were no witnesses, but that was another story. Georg tried not to even _think_ those thoughts when Tom was around; he didn't like getting sucker-punched by the overprotective elder twin.

Tom made an affirmative noise, and the bag crinkled again.

Georg wasn't even going to point out that they were going to spoil their dinner - the twins never listened anyhow. He immersed himself in his magazine and tried to ignore the twins in favor of the magazine article that featured a delightful photo of a woman with spectacular breasts, a micro-skirt, a mod-ish hat, and very little else. Beyond the screen of his magazine there came a bump, a thump, a whine and more furious rustling as though the twins were fighting over the sack of candy. Georg figured it was surely happening, and since he definitely wasn't getting involved, he continued to skim down the article until suspicious silence descended.

Apropos of nothing, a "mew?" resonated on air.

Georg put his magazine aside. It had been a very long time since Bill had displayed a propensity for making kitty noises. This should be good. The twins had consumed so much sugar they'd regressed about eight years.

When he looked over at the couch opposing his, though, there was no one there. Georg blinked, possessed of the urge to rub his eyes. The twins were quick, but not quiet. Or they could be quiet, but not quick. It was highly unlikely that they'd managed to steal out of the room at a second's notice without leaving behind the wreckage of their passage and a great deal of noise.

A giggling sound reached his ears, and more rustling.

“Tom?” Georg called out.

His inquiry was answered by a strident “mrrow!” - the sound of a cat declaring itself. Now Georg was concerned. The only pet allowed on a regular basis in the studio was Tom's beloved pointer; cats brought with them fur, havoc, and sneezing for the hapless Gustav. Georg rose from the couch to inspect how they could have been invaded.

The confident mrrow was answered by a peep of a “mew!” and the noises of a tussle.

Georg peered over the back of the couch, bracing himself with a sense of dread. Whatever he'd thought he had been prepared for, his expectations were thrown out the window as he was confronted by the reality.

“I've fallen asleep,” Georg declared, looking down at the two small figures. “Or down the rabbit hole. Maybe there's crack in the water supply? What the _hell_ is going on?”

Two miniature Kaulitz-faces looked back up at him, blinking huge eyes. The twins were recognizably themselves, yet the size of much younger individuals, or perhaps little people, given that they appeared fully developed. They had large, furry ears jutting from the crowns of their heads, the color a light brown, which was the shade that showed up at Bill's roots if he waited too long between dye sessions. Equally alarming as the appearance of large cat-ears was the length of swishy tail that both twins were waving and twitching around.

“I warned you not to eat that candy,” Georg said, unable to stop himself from sounding more than a little smug.

Bill blinked huge amber-brown eyes at him, opened his mouth and displayed tiny, sharp-looking canines, and pronounced in defiance:

“Mew.”

Georg hung over the back of the sofa and cracked up. He couldn't help himself. “That's going to play well at concerts,” he gasped out, ignoring the twin glares full of reproachfulness aimed in his direction.

He got up, rounding the couch to snatch up the bag of candy. It crinkled in his hands, completely empty. “Great,” he said, scanning over the bag for some kind of note, card, or something that would conveniently provide reversal instructions.

There was a note in glitter pen on the bottom. _For my favorite Kaulitz Kitties._ Each 'i' was dotted with a heart, and there was another, large heart with a kitty-face drawn beside the note. There was no signature, no instructions, nor was there a time interval to indicate how long Georg's nightmare would continue.

“Stop that,” Georg told Bill, who was rubbing his face against the shin of Georg's jeans. He thought about pinching himself, or calling for help.

Tom, equally small as his kitty-brother but looking feral and determined, pounced on Bill and tumbled him to the floor in a tackle. He proceeded to lick at Bill's face with a broad, apparently cat-sandpapery tongue, if Bill's outraged mewls were anything to go by.

“Never mind,” Georg told himself. “The least amount of people to see this, the better.”

This had shot up to his top five list of 'things Bild never needs to know.'

As Tom climbed atop his brother's back and moved his hips in lazy revolutions, the incident assumed proportions of 'no one needs to know, EVER, especially not PAs and god why am I still here.' Georg shoved at Tom's thigh with a foot, glad he was still wearing shoes. “Quit humping your brother,” Georg admonished.

Tom turned his head and hissed, actually fucking _hissed_ at Georg.

“All right,” Georg said, retreating behind the couch with the crumpled, empty candy bag. He should probably wash his hands, in case there was any chance of residue contamination. “This is no problem. I just keep the two of you shut up in here until that crap wears off.”

Bill warbled something pleasured and vaguely erotic as Tom continued his determined movements.

“And make sure no one gets _in_ here, either,” Georg amended.

The door to the studio banged open again and Georg hurried back around the couch to shield the kitty-twins as best he could.

“How much longer are we taking a break?” Gustav mumbled, hunched into his hoodie, bringing a stream of cold air with him. “I was hoping to get home sometime by mid—Georg? What the hell?”

“Shut the door behind you,” Georg said, while frantically gesturing with his hands.

“What's going on?” Gustav asked, wary. He shut the door, took a few steps closer to Georg as he tried to peer over his shoulder, and released an explosive sneeze.

“You're not going to believe this,” Georg said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the humanoid feline Kaulitzes were no longer going at it. 

Kitty Bill was curled up in a ball, purring like a buzz-saw, his long dark tail laying like a stripe over his nose, and pawhands tucked neatly under his chin. Georg was pretty sure Bill had never been _that_ flexible before.

Tom Cat was staring up at Georg with beady eyes as though daring him to try something, anything. One kitten hand rested in a territorial sort of manner over Bill's starred, partially exposed right hip.

The twins were prone to casual displays of affection with or without cameras, but Georg had never seen either of them go so far before. He wondered if it was the candy, abolishing their inhibitions and causing their already close relationship to be taken to a more physical level; or whether the twins were just that circumspect and their relationship extended further than siblings, or even normal twins.

Well, no one could ever accuse the twins of being normal.

“I need help,” Georg said pathetically, stepping aside to reveal the two felinized Kaulitzes. “They're _cats_.”

Gustav's eyes widened. He peered through his blocky black glasses at the twins, and began to back up. “I told them, again and again. Never eat anything the fangirls send. You're on your own with this one.”

"How did you know it was fangirls?" Georg protested, horrified by Gustav's instant declaration of betrayal.

Gustav snorted, inhaled, and sneezed again. He shook his head and retreated, pulling the door almost closed behind him. "Make sure to lock the doors until they're back to normal," was his last piece of advice before he shut the door.

With a groan, Georg headed over to lock it. " _If_ they get back to normal," he mumbled, and tried not to think about breaking this news to Jost or their management team. The thought made him want to cry, and since Georg was a butch, manly man who did not partake of that sort of behavior, it was best not to think about.

A skittering thump came from behind him and Georg turned to see Tom Cat scampering along the length of the runner that covered the floor behind the couch. As he got near the end, he tried to skid to a halt and the runner kept going, coasting over the floor and sending Tom Cat on a collision course for the nearest trophy case.

“Oh, god, don't--” Georg gave a strangled cry, hurrying for Tom. He was fully aware that Bill wouldn't kill _Tom_ over the ruination of any trophies once he was restored to his proper faculties. That would make far too much sense. He'd pin the blame on Georg for not keeping Tom out of trouble.

Tom Cat got himself straightened out from a crumpled heap at the base of the trophy case and stalked off on all fours, his tail held proudly upright. He slanted Georg an insolent look as though to imply he'd accomplished his purpose and nothing untoward had occurred.

Georg went over to inspect the trophy case, anyhow. As he was assuring himself that nothing was too out of place, there came a tearing sound, something that put Georg in mind of shredding, the kind of ripping frenzy that Bill went into when he was seriously unhappy with a song that was giving him trouble.

Beside him, Tom Cat blinked up in utter unconcern as Georg looked down at him. “Where's your brother?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. With building dread, Georg hurried around the nearest side of the couch.

“Oh, god, Bill!” Georg exclaimed, appalled. “It's been a _minute!_ How did you--” He hurried over to snatch his magazine out of Bill's hands, glad that the damage wasn't worse. With one twin out of sight, it hadn't even been a minute and Bill had torn through half the dirty magazine he'd set aside.

Bill looked up at him with huge, innocent eyes. He climbed off the couch and rubbed his face against Georg's leg.

Georg sighed. “No, I'm not going to stay mad at you,” he assured Kitty Bill, who made a pleased noise in his throat and butted against Georg's leg again.

It was a clear bid for pettings, but Georg was wary of Tom Cat. The other twin had come round the couch and he was fixing alert kitty eyes on Georg, once again daring him to take the chance.

After a few seconds of no pettings, Bill dug his claws in, giving Georg tactile proof that he'd somehow acquired a razor-sharp set to go with his other feline attributes, and trilled a very demanding, _”mew!”_

“Ow ow ow...” Georg reached down to disengage Kitty Bill from his leg and Tom Cat charged him. He threw up his hands and attempted to stage a retreat, but with Kitty Bill clinging fast to his jeans, that only caused a stumble with Bill still half-wrapped around his jeans, wailing in distress.

As Georg fell to the sofa, he dislodged several torn pieces of magazine paper and they rose fluttering into the air. Bill disengaged from Georg's pants at once, leaping and swatting at the drifting sheets with outspread kitty claws.

He watched both twins bat confetti'd paper out of the air, an idea forming. If he could turn the twins' destructive instincts onto things that it wouldn't hurt, ruin, or otherwise render inoperable...

It would be exhausting, but he'd avert the probable lecture from one or both twins – who would end up blaming him for the wreckage, as they always did. Not to mention...

As the glossy magazine confetti settled, Tom fixated on the tip of Bill's twitching tail. As soon as it swept to one side, Tom gathered himself and leapt, capturing the tail. Bill screeched, whipping around and colliding with Tom, tumbling them both to the floor where they went rolling, knocking into table legs and sending paper flying up again.

Georg sighed and jingled his keys. He'd never done a babysitting stint, but he _had_ roomed with the twins when they were in their early teens. This was about as bad, without all the rapid-fire insults and retorts of “your mother!” that only infuriated both Kaulitzes to new heights.

The twins snapped to attention, both heads coming round and two sets of ears pricked high as Georg dangled his keys in the air.

“That's right,” Georg said encouragingly. He fumbled for the laser pointer at the end of his keychain. “And...go get it!” He sent the red beam of his pointer out over the hardwood floor.

The kitty twins set off in hot pursuit, scrabbling over the floor and clipping the runner, sending it spinning in another direction.

Georg played the laser pointer one way, got the twins running in that direction, and cut it another. The kitty twins scrabbled frantically to change course, tumbling over each other with squeaky little growls and batting at the pinpoint of red light. When they got close, Georg reversed course on them again, raising his arm to send the beam shooting for the far wall.

His plan was a good plan. He was going to run the pointer around the room until the twins got tired and passed out, or his arm fell off. Whichever came first – Georg was committed.

The fifth time he changed course, though, the twins lost speed on the changeover. They pursued the point of light with waning enthusiasm; Bill sat on his haunches and yawned. Tom kept going, either from momentum or stubbornness, but he was no longer throwing himself into it body and soul.

Georg trailed the little red dot over Tom's knuckles, aiming it back toward Bill. 

Tom pranced back toward Bill, tail tip spasming during the moment before the pounce.

Bill pawed idly at the jittering dot. He collapsed on his side, nose twitching.

Georg tried to re-engage them by sending the laser pointer spazzing off toward the wall.

Tom turned his back on the pointer and headed for the couch. He nuzzled against it, gave it a good firm swipe with his cheek, and hooked both handsful of claws into the side.

“No!” Georg yelped, lurching up out of his seat. “Damn it, Tom! Leave the couch alone!” He cast about desperately for something to distract Tom Cat. His eye fell on a bunch of empty candy wrappers. Bill had been wolfing caramels down as though he suspected the rest of them might try to eat some before he downed the lot.

He reached down and grabbed a handful. The wrappers rustled, and Tom's head swung around, his ears going on the alert again.

Perfect. Georg crinkled one between his thumb and forefinger, balanced, and flicked it.

The balled-up candy wrapper shot across the room. With a trilling noise, Tom Cat launched himself after it.

"Aha," Georg said aloud. Surely this would keep the kitties occupied long enough to wear them out. Even if there was no candy left in the wrapper, there might be enough scent left to entice them to chase after it again and again.

A tug at his foot made Georg look down just as he was beginning to wonder why there wasn't a second kitty Kaulitz chasing after the crumpled wrapper.

Bill was perched on his haunches at Georg's feet, long tail waving back and forth, toying with Georg's shoelaces. Georg was fairly certain that the laces had been tied only a moment before.

Georg wadded up another candy wrapper, waggling it mid-air.

Tom Cat's head craned and his eyes pinned to thin points. He came scrambling back over from where he'd begun to bat the first empty wrapper between his hands.

"Come on, Bill," Georg coaxed. "Candy wrapper?"

Bill bat-bat-batted at a dangling shoelace. He hunched, tail beginning to lash furiously, and pounced determinedly at Georg's ankle.

"Ow!" Georg complained, and found himself staggering back from yet another assault.

Hissing, Tom Cat charged up on them and bowled Kitty Bill over, taking him to the floor again. Bill mewed in protest, until Tom Cat had him pinned. Bill's ass waggled again, tail spiking straight up, tail flipping out at the end. As Tom Cat climbed aboard for another go, Georg groaned and averted his eyes.

"You two have the attention span of a pair of squirrels on crack," Georg complained, scattering candy wrappers over the floor.

Tom leapt off a plaintively-warbling Kitty Bill, diving for about five of the tumbling wrappers all at once. He looked so joyful that Georg couldn't help but grin in response.

"Mew," Kitty Bill declared. He was curled up beside Georg's leg again, giving him huge eyes and a lip tremble for good measure.

Georg reached down to scratch at his ears, keeping a wary eye on Tom. He had no desire to have his shin shredded up as a stand-in cat scratch post again.

"We're going to have to figure out something to keep the two of you gainfully occupied," Georg said, wondering how much the two of them understood in their altered state.

"Mrrow," Tom Cat informed him. He pawed idly at a candy wrapper, turned his tail on it, and came back to head-butt Bill's flank.

"How adorable," Georg said wearily. "Now, if you--"

Kitty Bill turned and laid a pawful of scratches right over Tom Cat's very surprised nose.

"Hey! Be nice to your brother!" Georg shouted, disbelieving his own ears as the Kaulitz cats scattered, Tom bolting for the far side of the couch and Bill skidding through a pile of candy wrappers, sliding over hardwood floor and somersaulting under an end-table. He grumbled under his breath, "Don't make me separate you two..."

It was an idle threat, and the scornful look that Tom Cat tossed his way let him know it. The crying and caterwauling when the two of them were separated as human males was bad enough. He didn't think his nerves could stand heart-rending kitty yowls over a prolonged amount of time.

“The plan was to wear the two of you out so you'd leave me alone,” Georg groaned, regarding the two uncooperative Kaulitz kitties with resignation and despair. He was locked in for the duration, with no clue as to how long the duration was. He hoped it was only for the span of the sugar rush.

Bill was nosing at a low shelf that was home to assorted knick-knacks and items which saw infrequent use; old black polish dating back to 2004 or so, a set of charcoal pencils in an oblong case, a meat grinder whose purpose had never been explained to Georg, a set of yin-yang metallic balls that chimed softly with any movement, and a packet of inflatable balloons, the type that clowns used to make wacky shapes and animals; amongst other things. Bill had taken to rubbing his cheek against a large, blacked out jar.

“Wait, is that--” Georg began, only to be interrupted with a sharp tearing sound. He turned back to Tom Cat only to find him tearing up Bill's open lyric notebook. Small face intent, Tom drew vengeful claws down the length of a page, caught it with his other handful of claws, and worked it over thoroughly. “Tom, stop! You're gonna get me killed!”

With a soft pop and a clatter, Georg's attention was jerked back around even as he reached down with a tentative foot to poke Tom Cat in the side and disengage him from his determined destruction of the lyric notebook. His eyes widened.

The air was swimming with glitter.

“Oh, my god,” Georg groaned. He stood riveted in place as Kitty Bill scampered happily in the heart of a glitter explosion.

Tom Cat abandoned his relentless tearing at the lyric book and loped around the couch, batting at the glitter as though determined to catch it. He caught handfuls, tossed it back into the air, and cavorted around as Bill shook his head, spreading the glitter around even more.

Georg sighed and pondered dropping back onto the couch. Before he could do so, the glitter-covered twins made a beeline for him as though they'd organized it, each of them going for a leg in perfect tandem.

“Mrr!” Bill purred happily, latching onto Georg's leg in a koala-like embrace.

“Mrrow,” Tom added, rubbing his face against Georg's other shin and working glitter-spangled hands against his leg in decisive kneading motions.

There was no question of it. The twins were going to wear him out before he even got close to working the sugar rush out of their veins with anything he could set them to.

“All right,” Georg said, reaching down to pet two sparkly sets of ears. “I get it. You two are in charge. So what next?”

* * *

Gustav used his key to unlock the studio, checking his watch one last time. If his hypothesis was correct, the twins would revert to form once the sugar rush had worn off. Given the rate of Kaulitz metabolism and the size of the glitter-decorated bag in Georg's hand, right about now should do it. It was, of course, far after midnight but he'd brought pizza, and coffee.

“Georg?” Gustav called out, keeping his voice low in case he attracted any feline attentions. He sniffed the air experimentally. It didn't cause him to sneeze immediately, and so he eased the door open, bracing the pizza against his hip, giving it a stern eye to be sure the coffee stacked on top of the boxes wouldn't topple. “Hello? Has the danger level returned to green?”

A loud, prolonged snore was his only answer.

Gustav raised his brows and entered the room properly, kicking the door shut behind him. It wasn't unusual for one or the other of them to take naps during long nights if Bill and Tom were working something out with a lyric and melody combination, but since he'd left Georg locked in here with a pair of kittens, he supposed he ought to check and see if his friend was okay.

“Wow,” Gustav said, coming far enough into the room to get a good look at the couch and its contents. “I guess Bill had a use for that old glitter jar, after all.”

Sacked out on the couch with his head tipped against the back, Georg was snoring loud enough to cut through a stack of logs. Curled up on one of Georg's thighs, black hair awash in multi-colored glitter, Bill appeared to be sound asleep. Arranged to the other side of him, Tom's head was nestled on Georg's shoulder and he, too, was etched in glitter that coated hair, cheeks, clothes. Even Georg had not escaped the glitter anointment; his jeans were covered with the small reflective speckles, and a distinct hand-mark limned in glitter stood out on the black t-shirt he wore.

“Wild party? Rave?” Gustav inquired dryly, setting the pizza and coffee on table across from the snuggly trio with a thud. One of the boxes nudged a foot that Georg had propped on the table.

“Hmm? Whazzat?” Georg said, startling out of his doze.

Bill sat up, raising both arms in a quick stretch and almost socking their bassist in the eye. “Mrr?”

“Tell me it's worn off already,” Georg said to the room at large, head still leaning on the couch back, his eyes still squeezed shut.

“What do you mean?” Tom asked, rubbing his eye and bringing a hand away glitter-smeared. He stared at his hand. “Huh...”

“I dreamed I was a kitty,” Bill said, stretching in another way, lengthening his thighs and sitting up off the couch, making his tight t-shirt ride up his stomach.

“I dreamed I was a kit—a cat, too,” Tom said, trying to wipe his hand off on his shirt and finding it already flecked in enough glitter to supply a craft store. “What the hell happened?”

“So, you don't remember the candy? The laser pointer? Chasing after candy wrappers? Using my leg for a scratching post? Humping?” Georg questioned.

“No, I--” Bill began, shaking his head.

“What was that last one?” Tom demanded.

“Nothing,” Georg said.

Gustav decided the best course of action would be to pretend the whole evening had never happened, which was, of course, easy enough for him, since he hadn't been there. “Are we going to finish up, or what?”

“Or what,” the twins chorused, each of them reaching for the pizza box.

“Ugh,” Georg said, rubbing at his face and pinning Gustav with somewhat accusatory eyes. “You really left me in the lurch.”

“I'm allergic,” Gustav said, shrugging. “I brought you food?”

“All is forgiven,” Georg let it go, reaching for his own slice of pizza.

“So it really did happen?” Bill said, before cramming half his pizza into his mouth.

“We were cats?” Tom continued the thread.

“You were something,” Georg muttered.

Bill made a pleased noise as though it had been a compliment, chewed, and swallowed. “I remember purring.”

Tom smirked over at him. “Somehow I don't think that's all you did,” he said, lifting a long glitter-sheathed braid off his shoulder and inspecting it.

“It's not,” Georg said, heartfelt. When everyone looked at him, he said defensively, “Bild never needs to know.”

The twins shrugged and went back to their pizza.

“Oh, and Tom? Bill?”

The twins gave Georg matching inquisitive stares.

“Don't eat anything sent in by the fangirls again, or we'll find out if kitty Prozac is the cure.”


End file.
